


Universe

by Mohini



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bonding, Familial Abuse, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-17
Updated: 2014-01-17
Packaged: 2018-01-09 02:06:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1140172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mohini/pseuds/Mohini
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There were a few facts that formed the foundation of my universe. Number one, my father was a cold monster who could not be trusted and who would inflict pain at any opportunity. Number two, my father served as right hand man to an even worse monster who was considerably less sane and a lot more dangerous. Number three, Harry Potter was an obnoxious boy hero who reveled in undeserved fame. This little trifecta of facts had been a stable part of my life since my fourth year, when the Dark Lord returned from the dead, or whatever he had been. Potter's offhand comment completely undermined the third leg of my fragile yet predictable world. What the hell was I supposed to do with that?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Universe

            I could hear Mother calling to me from the hallway. She was becoming impatient. She hates to be late, and if I kept up my “primping” we surely would be. September 1st was a day that I both looked forward to and dreaded each year. For one thing, it marked the beginning of a new school year, in which I would be able to spend 10 wonderful months away from the cold monster that was my father. The problem was that the first of those 10 months was always spent hiding his handiwork from my peers. I arrived every year under cover of carefully applied glamours. When I was young, my first and second years, Mother did the work for me, just as she had when we expected guests throughout my growing up years. Now in my 6th year, I had long since taken over the task. It was my suspicion that she had no idea the intensity to which Father’s abuse had grown. I was very, very good at glamour charms. I also had the good fortune of being pretty handy with healing charms as well, a talent which had become necessary when Father came to the conclusion that merely beating or cursing me was not adequate punishment for my countless shortcomings.

            “Draco! You have one more minute before I send the nearest house elf to fetch you! We must be leaving!” Mother’s voice, though never sharp or loud, carried quite effectively in our large house. I took one last look in the mirror, hoping it would be adequate. The charms had fooled her all summer. I was just wishing that Pansy would be as willing to accept the façade as Mother had been. Of all the Slytherins, Pansy Parkinson was the one and only person who so much as suspected what my home life consisted of. Her father and mine were cut from much the same cloth. We didn’t talk about it; there was no need.

            I hurried from my room, following Mother out to the carriage and climbing in for the journey to King’s Cross. My father was waiting, glaring at me sternly for my tardiness. As I sat down, his cane lashed across the space and struck my shoulder. I could feel the crack of bone splintering. Tears burned in my eyes as I fought to compose myself. Showing weakness would invite another strike. The injury throbbed, and I dared not remove my wand from my robes to heal it. I understood immediately what he was doing. With a broken clavicle, I would be in pain for the lengthy carriage ride. He intended to test my strength in this way, watching for any sign of a crack in the stoic façade he had literally beaten into me.

            I somehow managed not to fall to pieces before we arrived at the station. Once we made it through the barrier, Mother and Father stood off to the side as I went to greet Pansy. I stifled a scream when she placed a hand on my shoulder for balance as she stood on her toes to kiss me in greeting. Father saw the momentary flinching. I knew because I caught a stinging hex squarely in the middle of my back. I managed not to react, but I knew that Pansy saw the flash of pain in my eyes. She smiled serenely up at me as a feeling of numbness washed over me. A tiny bit of her wand was visible at the edge of her jumper sleeve. Pansy, for all her Slytherin guile and ambition, not to mention whatever injuries Mr. Parkinson had dished out over the summer, had taken pity on me and cast one hell of a numbing charm.

            I followed Pansy onto the train and we quickly found ourselves a compartment. Locking and warding the door, Pansy turned to face me. “What do I need to fix?” She asked the question with no preamble, clearly aiming to get me sorted before any more of our housemates noticed the injury. I allowed myself a quick grimace before telling her what Father had done in the carriage. She pointed her wand at the broken clavicle, and said in her clear, calm voice, “Episkey.” I was somewhat proud of myself for not screaming when the bone, including the fragments embedded in the surrounding muscle, knit itself rapidly back to normal. Pansy handed me a phial from her handbag, which I drank and returned. Between the numbing charm and the pain potion, I felt good enough to relax against the seat of the compartment as she unlocked the door. Moments later, Blaise strode in. Behind him came Crabbe and Goyle. I really just wanted to be alone, but I kept up with the conversation and carefully smoothed my mask of indifference back onto my face. Pansy sat on my lap, acting as though absolutely nothing unusual had occurred before the others joined us.

            On our way to the horseless carriages, I glanced ahead of us to see Potter and his minions boarding a carriage. I watched in some shock as Potter met my gaze. He looked as if he was examining me. I stored the knowledge away, knowing in some way that it would be of use to me eventually. Then I followed Pansy into the carriage she chose for our group. Once seated, she leaned over and placed her lips at my ears. “Pull it together, Dray. Keep following me like a puppy and you’ll lose any respect you’ve gotten out of these idiots.”

            I blinked, in shock at what I had been doing. Lucky for me that Pansy was willing to remind me of my place. Deference to her was not nearly so stupid as it would be to any other girl. Pansy had a reputation for being positively terrifying. Still, it would not do for word to be spread that I had lost my edge. When we arrived at the castle, I was the first from the carriage, extending a hand to assist her before leading her into the Great Hall, my position once more as it was expected to be.

            The meal itself turned out to be a bit of a struggle. In the week leading to the beginning of the school year, I had offended Father by not having been named captain for my Quidditch squad. Never mind that the returning captain was a 7th year. Father had felt that an appropriate punishment was withholding meals. I had scarcely eaten in the last five days. Looking at the mountain of food heaped in front of me had my stomach churning. I was no stranger to starvation, but had no idea what to eat that had a chance of staying down. A few bites in, I was struggling not to vomit right there at the table. Knowing that I was probably looking as nauseated as I felt, I looked at Pansy for a moment and hoped she would understand my silent plea for help. She brought her right hand to her left forearm, gently tapping the wand held under her clothes in an elegant leather holder. I remembered her teaching me this charm once. Pansy was tiny little thing, five feet tall and all of 90 pounds fully dressed. In winter robes. Most people assumed that she was insanely thin because she was naturally short and lithe. Her height may well have been a natural occurrence, but Pansy, for all her strength, had been starving herself off and on for the better part of her school years. She was practically a professional at it by now. I lifted a fork filled with rich roasted meat to my mouth, relief flooding through me when the bite disappeared as it touched my lips without being ingested. I had never been more grateful for my slightly insane friend in my life. Thanks to her charm, I was able to escape the feast without having eaten one single bite more of the food presented to us. I managed to choke down a few ounces of tea, but that was all my poor stomach could handle, and in all honesty even that had me feeling less than wonderful.

            After the meal, I ditched the rest of my house and snuck off to one of the less used bathrooms in the dungeons to relieve myself of the tea and what little I had eaten, which by that point was causing horrible stomach cramps. When I emerged from the stall, I was thoroughly surprised to find green eyes staring at me under a shock of untidy black hair. I shoved past him on my way to the sinks, splashing cool water on my flushed face. A calloused hand placed a small phial on the edge of the sink and I looked up at him. “Pain potion. Thought it might help.”

            I stared at him, completely lost as to why he would be offering me the potion, and why in hell he knew what was wrong with me. He apparently understood the question on my face. “Moody made me drink a stealth potion before he let me go to King’s Cross. It causes me to be able to see through glamours. Should wear off in a few more hours, but the bruises on your face make it pretty clear how your summer went. You’re skin and bones under those robes, too. No one has to know about this. Just let me help you out. Okay?” I nodded, pocketing the potion phial. No way was it going to stay down yet.

            “I’m pretty decent at nausea charms, if you’d like,” Potter offered. I was tempted to say something snarky back, but the idea of being able to take the potion without feeling like I was ready to vomit up my own toenails had some serious merit.

            “Go ahead,” I said, watching him as he lifted his wand and cast. I removed the potion from my robes and downed it. I expected to feel at least some cramping, but there was nothing. I stared at him for a moment before thanking him.

            “I live with Seamus Finnegan. Nausea charms are a survival tactic when he decides we all need to drink together. Irish, you know. The boy can drink his weight and not even start slurring. Anyway, glad it helped. I need to get back to my dorm before someone notices their beloved poster martyr is gone. See you around, Malfoy.” With that, he turned and walked out of the bathroom, leaving me very confused but at least feeling up to surviving a night in the dungeons with my fellow Slytherins.

            Late that night, after retiring to bed, I mulled over the bathroom incident. The idea that Potter would bring me a pain potion was not all that unusual to me. After all, his hero complex was well known. What baffled me was his comment about Gryffindor House’s “poster martyr.” There were a few facts that formed the foundation of my universe. Number one, my father was a cold monster who could not be trusted and who would inflict pain at any opportunity. Number two, my father served as right hand man to an even worse monster who was considerably less sane and a lot more dangerous. Number three, Harry Potter was an obnoxious boy hero who reveled in undeserved fame. This little trifecta of facts had been a stable part of my life since my fourth year, when the Dark Lord returned from the dead, or whatever he had been. Potter comment completely undermined the third leg of my fragile yet predictable world. What the hell was I supposed to do with that?

 

 

 ~~~

 

            Morning found me wincing my way through a shower and trudging up to the Great Hall for a breakfast I was not remotely interested in eating. I had been awake twice in the night to rush to the toilets and vomit. I shifted most of what was on my plate over to Crabbe’s plate, which he took happily enough. That left me with some toast and some tea. Hoping it would go better than it had the previous night, I nibbled experimentally at the toast before giving up. My stomach turned out to be a lost cause, as I discovered to my horror a few minutes through a double potions period. Snape was feeling exceptionally sadistic that morning and had partnered me with Potter. Boy hero or not, he was horrible in the subject and absolutely useless as a partner.

            I sent him off to get the necessary ingredients from the supply cupboard, fearing that standing up would end in being ill. If I could just manage to be very still and not move too much, maybe it would fade. When Potter returned with the various ingredients, he sat down and looked at me for a moment. “Go,” he said under his breath. “I’ll get started. Can’t do a charm in here. Sorry.”

            I hadn’t even realized I was hoping for a nausea charm until after he had reminded me that it was not an option in the potions classroom. After a few too many accidents, Snape had warded the room to prevent anything beyond the wandwork required for a given potion. Willing myself to not vomit before I made it to a toilet, I practically ran from the classroom. I made it, but only just barely. I was still hunched over the toilet trying to catch my breath when I heard footsteps and the stall door opened behind me.

            “I think Snape’s lost his mind. He sent me to check on you,” Potter said. “Says if you are too ill for class I’m to take you up to see Pomfrey. Do you think you’re okay enough to make it up there?”

            I managed to look up at him for a moment before I found myself retching in the toilet again, somehow vomiting even more. When I finished, Potter was holding out a damp cloth for me to wipe my face. He held out a hand and I managed to pull myself to standing. My knees gave out, though, and I found myself being held up by a surprisingly strong Harry Potter. “I think you just answered that question,” he told me, one arm around my waist. “Damn. You weigh less than a first year, Malfoy. Everyone’s in class so if you’ll let me, I can hold you up. You need to see the matron.”

            I nodded miserably. I’d dealt with post starvation nausea a million times. This was weird. I should have been able to keep down small meals. The walk to the infirmary took forever. Half a flight of stairs had me so shaky and weak that Potter ended up just lifting me as though I were a toddler and carrying me up. He didn’t bother to put me down when he reached the landing, and by then I felt too poorly to care that I was being carried to the infirmary by a boy who was supposed to be my enemy. I just laid my head on his shoulder and closed my eyes.

            “Harry! What happened?” Madame Pomfrey shrieked when we entered the infirmary. I barely registered being laid on a bed. I clutched at Potter, not wanting to lose the safety of his arms around me. I had no idea what possessed me, but I did not want him to let go. He seemed to understand, twining his fingers in mine and brushing my hair back.

            “He’s got some kind of stomach virus or something. Can’t keep anything down. He went bolting out of potions and Professor Snape sent me to check on him. He’s too weak to walk on his own. I’ve been carrying him since the first floor landing.” I listened carefully as Potter skimmed over the reason I was light enough to be carried, and just why I was ill. I knew once she examined me, the matron was going to know exactly what had happened over the summer. I tried to sit up and protest, but the movement had my stomach spasming again. A basin was shoved under my chin, and Potter was holding my hair for me as a bitter wave of something that tasted worryingly metallic poured from my mouth.

            “Was he vomiting blood before, Harry?” Madame Pomfrey asked. Harry told her he didn’t think so. I heard her saying something in Latin and the nausea faded. A stomach settling charm, then. It wasn’t as effective as what Potter had cast the previous night, but it did help. I held tightly to Potter’s hand as she cast what seemed like a million diagnostic spells over me. I cringed as I felt the glamours dissolve. She tried to be quiet, but I heard her gasp. When she was finished, I curled up into the smallest ball I could, half aware that I was now wrapped around Potter’s arm as though it were a stuffed dragon. He didn’t try to pull away, though. When Madame Pomfrey returned with a tray full of potions, I began to cry. I knew there was no possible way I was going to keep anything down. My stomach felt as if it was on fire and I just wanted to go to sleep.  

            Potter came to my rescue yet again. “Maybe you could try some charms first? Can’t you see he’s scared?” The matron sputtered something about insolent boys arguing with her all the time. Then she started casting. I was asleep in moments. I woke up several hours later, feeling as though my limbs were made of lead. Even turning my head on the pillow felt like too much work. I could hear someone beside me, and opened my eyes to find Potter in one of the horrible wooden chairs that usually ensured that no one lingered long in the infirmary. Seeing that I was awake, he stood up, hailing the matron.

            “Mr. Malfoy,” she began when she got there. “You have some explaining to do. Who have you been fighting with? You’ve got serious internal injuries! If you had waited much longer, I would not have been able to do much at all for you. How on earth did you crack ten ribs? You had a ruptured spleen and a perforated colon, for goodness sake!  I’ve mended what I can, but you’re going to be spending a few nights here. Now what have you gotten yourself into?” I could hear the venom in her voice. I am, of course, a Slytherin. Son of an infamous Death Eater. Naturally, any injuries would be from a fight with a fellow student. Certainly not from my insane father. I closed my eyes. Surely she knew any fight I was in would have been reported.

            My first instinct was to make something up. Then I remembered who was sitting beside me. When I had stiffened at the harsh tone of the matron’s voice, a hand had been slipped into mine, squeezing in gentle reassurance. I turned my head to look directly at Harry Potter. “Sanctuary. Please?”

            Wide eyes stared back at me. He nodded. “Madame Pomfrey, please go find the Headmaster. No questions until I’ve established sanctuary for him.”

            I was a little shocked to find that she gave no argument, just went rushing out of the infirmary. I heard a few words of unfamiliar Latin as Potter warded the doors. “They will open only to Pomfrey, Dumbledore and Professor Snape. The Headmaster is sure to ask your Head of House to accompany him.”

            I must have looked worried about the inclusion of Snape, because Potter went on immediately. “You don’t have anything to worry about. You’ll understand soon. Professor Dumbledore will want to verify your request. If there is anything you can’t discuss, just squeeze my hand. I can tell him to back off.”

            I nodded, tears filling my eyes. Potter had no reason to trust me, save a few bruises he had seen on my skin. Yet he was offering not only protection through sanctuary, but to shepherd my questioning. Potter’s hand reached forward, wiping the tears that had spilled onto my cheeks. “Don’t. You’re safe now. Is there anything I should know?”

            “I’m sorry I’ve been such an ass to you,” I said softly. Potter shook his head and looked directly into my eyes before he spoke.

            “What’s done is done. We move on. I’ve spent my entire life getting the shit beaten out of me at home. From the looks of things, so have you. We have a lot to learn about each other. Besides, we might make better friends than enemies. Who in their right mind would go up against the pair of us?”

            I hazarded a smile when he was finished. There was something to be said for the stereotypical Gryffindor honor. He summoned several extra pillows and gently placed them behind me until I was propped upright. The sound of the doors opening startled me, and once again Potter’s hand was in mine, his thumb rubbing circles on my palm, soothing me. Professors Snape and Dumbledore came to us, heavy footfalls echoing in the room. Potter turned to face them.

            “Draco has asked for sanctuary for himself. I have accepted his request. Verify as you must. For my part, I have seen enough to trust him. I am remaining with him while you do so. Ask only what is necessary. This is not an opportunity to parade his past in front of him.” Green eyes flashed angrily as he spoke. I noticed that he focused not on Snape, but the Headmaster.

            “Your conditions are reasonable, Harry. Shall we?” The Headmaster looked at the pair of us with that irritating look of amusement to so often seem plastered on his face. Potter, Harry, I reminded myself, nodded and I found myself doing the same.

            “Draco, do you ask sanctuary of your own free will, with no motive to harm those from whom you seek to gain protection and safe harbor?”

            “Yes, Professor.”

            “Please tell us why you seek this now.”

            “My father is unstable, sir. He is violent. He always has been, as you both know well. He has been worse since the Dark Lord returned. He nearly killed me this summer, and Potter brought me to the infirmary today with injuries Madame Pomfrey says were life threatening. They were given in punishment by my father. I won’t continue to be a pawn for a man who would kill his own son. I do not wish to follow his path. I don’t want to be a monster,” my voice broke and I felt the mattress dip as Harry sat down beside me, his free arm wrapping behind my shoulders. I curled up against him, shoulders shaking as I cried. I heard the sound of rustling robes, and another hand was on my back.

            “Draco, I had no idea. I am so sorry,” Professor Snape was telling me, his hand awkwardly patting my back in an attempt to soothe me. “Your mother told me you were ill when I visited the Manor this summer. Was that true?”

            I turned to face him, keeping as much of me as possible pressed against the safety that was Potter. “I was in my chambers. Father crucio’d me after I failed to cast a killing curse on a house elf.  He held me under the curse for about an hour. I suppose you could say I was ill.”

            Professor Snape’s face paled as I spoke. I could see that he was telling the truth. He had not known what was happening in my home. He was my godfather, the one adult who had ever seemed to actually care for me. I had long wondered why he never tried to stop Father. Now I knew.

            “Mr. Malfoy, has your father abused you in the past? Beyond the two instances we now know about?” Professor Dumbledore asked. His calm tone infuriated me. I had shown up for school every single year in worsening condition. I never failed to lose weight over holidays. The old man seemed to know everything that happened in his school. I found it unfathomable that he had not known about me. I took several deep breaths before I answered him.

            “Father has cursed, hexed, starved, beaten, and forced various potions on me my entire life, Professor. Do you want to hear about the time he broke my arm for petting one of his peacocks? I was four. Or perhaps about the raw meat he force fed me when I didn’t come in at the head of my class first year? I was sick for two weeks after that. When I was thirteen he decided it was time I had sex. He imperio’d a Muggle woman and gave me a lust potion. Someone in Slytherin let slip last year that I’m gay. He fucking raped me himself for that one. All. Summer. Long. I can tell you about hundreds of other ‘instances.’ Anything else you’d like to know, Headmaster? Or will that be enough?” I was rapidly losing control. Tears were streaming down my face and my voice was well above a decent volume. The tears and accompanying hyperventilating triggered the nausea again, and Harry was holding a basin for me, somehow keeping it under my chin while holding me. I felt the encroaching darkness at the edges of my vision and whispered to him that I was going to pass out.

            “I’ve got you,” came his reply. I didn’t fight it at all, just let myself drift off into unconsciousness. The last thing I heard was Harry ordering Professor Dumbledore to cast a calming charm on me. When I woke, I was still held safely in his arms. I looked around for a moment, and saw that both Dumbledore and Snape had settled into chairs near the bed. Seeing I was awake again, Harry asked if I was ready for the binding to be done. I must have looked confused, because he explained it as though I was a young child.

            “The Sanctuary Binding. To keep you safe from your father. And Voldemort. Are you ready for us to do it? I don’t think it’s safe to wait long. You know it’s blood magic, right? I’ll serve as your keeper, so Snape will cut both of us before he says the incantation. All you have to do is hold still while the cuts are made. Okay?”

            “Harry, are you sure that you should be the keeper? Perhaps it would be better if I did it for young Mr. Malfoy?” Dumbledore interrupted. Harry shook his head.

            “He asked me for sanctuary. I will be the one who gives it. And my blood makes him safer. Her protection should transfer as well, right?”

            “Yes. It will.” The headmaster answered. I was thoroughly confused. I was familiar with how Sanctuary Bindings worked. But I didn’t know who the “her” might be. Obviously Harry realized that the cryptic reference had thrown me, because he said softly, “My mother. When she died for me, I gained blood protection. It will include you once the binding is done.”

            “I’m ready,” I answered. Snape and Dumbledore stepped forward, a dagger held in Snape’s hand. I leaned into Harry’s shoulder for a moment, reminding myself that for once, this was pain that would have a purpose.  I sat back up after a moment, looking as calmly as I could at the blade. I nodded to Snape, and he sliced into my palm. I saw the blade swipe Harry’s hand as well, and then Dumbledore reached forward to press our hands tightly together, mingling the blood.  I heard Snape saying the spell, and watched as the purple ribbons of energy surrounded and bound our hands, then seemed to soak down into our skin.

            When Snape ended the spell, Harry kept his hand pressed against mine and wrapped an arm around me. I crumbled into the embrace, letting myself be pulled gently into his lap. My eyes drifted shut, and I was asleep again, my head on his chest, lulled to sleep by the steady sound of his heartbeat.

 

 

 ~~~

 

 

            The next time I was awake, I was nestled into the pillows, tucked under a blanket on the hospital cot. I was vaguely aware that something was missing. Something warm. Someone. Crap. I was alone. I sat upright, looking frantically around for the missing person. Sparing not a shred of thought for my dignity, tears were filling my eyes and I was scared.

            “He has gone to dinner. He will return shortly, Draco.” Snape’s familiar drawl brought my attention to an area just to the side of bed, where he is seated in one of the wooden chairs, a book spread open in his lap. A breath I didn’t know I was holding came rushing out of me, and I sagged back down onto the bed. Was I seriously having a melt down from lack of Potter? As I contemplated that, the conversations and events of the past day came to the forefront of my mine. Sanctuary. Potter had given me sanctuary. Then the memory of what I had blurted out to Dumbledore during his questioning. They knew. They all knew. I screwed my eyes tightly closed, bringing my shaking hands up to cover my face as I curled into a ball on the uncomfortable cot. Deep, painful sobs shook me and Snape stood awkwardly beside me, a hand patting my shoulder.

            I heard the sound of the doors opening, and found myself being bodily dragged into Harry’s arms again. He had scrambled onto the cot, lifted me up and was wrapped around me, my head buried in his shoulder and my hands clutching at his robes. “What the fuck happened? I could _feel_ him in the Great Hall!” he was growling at Snape.

            “He didn’t say anything. Sat up looking for you. I told him where you had gone. He then began to cry and was as you found him,” the explanation was clipped, words sharp and defensive.

            “Draco, you’re safe. I’ve got you now. I’m not going to let you be hurt. You know that, right? I’ll keep you safe. You don’t have to worry, okay?” Potter was babbling in my ear and I wanted to scream. At the moment, I didn’t give a damn about being safe from my father. I really didn’t much care about being safe from the Dark Lord. I just wanted my secrets back. I didn’t want them to know what had happened to me. I didn’t want anyone to know that I was used goods, ruined by my own father. I could feel a gentle probing at the edge of my consciousness. I recognized the sensation as similar to Legilimency, but it didn’t have the edge of pain that I knew from the invasions into my mind that the Dark Lord favored. “Let me in, Draco. Show me what’s hurting you. I want to help. Please,” he whispered in my ear. So that was what the sensation was. As my keeper in the sanctuary bond, he would have an ability to sense my emotions. Assuming that he had some grasp of Legilimency, he would be able to enter my mind with my consent. I nodded against him, and concentrated on the memory of the first night Father had entered my rooms.

            He had begun by yelling, raging about the disappointment I was. Then he had screamed that no son of his was going to fail marry well and produce an heir. His next words were seared into my memories. “If you want to be fucked like a woman, I’ll just have to treat you like the worthless whore you are.” Then he had stripped off his trousers, banished my own clothing, and pinned me to the bed. Without any preparation, he had pressed himself into me, and when he left the room I lay in my own blood, tears burning behind closed eyes. It had happened every night for the rest of the summer. Sometimes just Father but other times he brought other Death Eaters with him. I knew that he was _obliviating_ them afterwards so that none of his cohorts knew about what he was doing to me, but it didn’t make it hurt any less. Hoping that Harry could sense my plea through the sanctuary bond, I concentrated on visualizing the moment I had told them all what Father had done. I felt him withdraw from my mind.

            Harry’s arms tightened around me. “Never again,” he whispered. I just held tightly to him. “Severus, I need to you to modify your memory of this evening. Draco regrets what he told us earlier, about his father. His reaction to Draco’s being gay. Please go and ask the Headmaster to do the same. I trust you to ensure he follows through.”

            “Of course, Harry.” Snape’s ready agreement was a surprise, but I was grateful for it. I listened for a moment and heard his footsteps as he left the infirmary.

            “Draco, I can’t remove the memory from myself. The binding won’t let me. But I won’t bring it up. We can talk about it if you want, but only if you do. You don’t have to worry about it, okay?” Harry was still holding me, rocking me.  I wanted to tell him it was alright for him to know. I trusted him not to use the knowledge to hurt me. I didn’t know why I suddenly trusted the boy I had considered an enemy for all our previous years of schooling. But the arms around me and the safety they granted me were enough to tell me I had chosen the right path. I couldn’t form words. I just held tightly to his robes and cried. In 16 years of life, I was certain I had not cried as much as I had in past few days.

            When I had finally gotten myself calmed down again, Madame Pomfrey was back with her tray full of potions. Harry sent her away when I stiffened in his arms. He patiently coaxed each one down my throat, stopping to rub my back when the foul tastes made me gag. When a particularly horrible one had me vomiting them all back up without warning, he calmly cast cleansing charms over us before using refilling charms on the empty phials. Then he began the process again, this time with a stronger nausea charm in place. Getting all the potions down and keeping them down took the better part of an hour, and I was shaking and barely able to hold my head up by the time we were finished.

            “You need sleep,” Harry told me. “I can stay if you want. I’ll be right by the bed, okay? So you can stretch out and rest,” he swung his legs over the side of the cot and I let out a whimper. Ashamed of my clingy behavior, I pulled my hands away from him and watched as he settled into a chair. I couldn’t stop myself from shivering at the loss of warmth beside me, though, and when he pulled another blanket onto me I grabbed his hand.

            “Why?” I asked him. Why had he granted me sanctuary? Why did he care about me? Why had he found me in the bathroom down in the dungeons to bring me a pain potion? So many questions behind that single word. He looked at me for a moment, then leaned forward and whispered his answer in my ear.

            “Because I know how this feels. Because I’ve spent my life being beaten senseless, or kept in the dark for my supposed protection. Because I see so much of me in your eyes. I don’t have a good answer, Draco. The best I have is that I care about you. I don’t know why, but I do. I think maybe I have for a while now. I saw your bruises at the train station today, and I realized that we aren’t different at all. That you need someone to give a damn about you, about Draco, as much as I need someone who doesn’t care about me being the ‘chosen martyr’ or whatever my current title is. I don’t expect you to feel anything for me. I don’t expect anything back. Just let me take care of you.”

            I nodded. I didn’t know how he made me feel so safe, but there it was. Safety had somehow come to mean being wrapped up tight in his arms. After the things I had lived through at my father’s whims, such a thing was unimaginable, but still it was there. I clutched his hand and relaxed as he began to brush his fingers through my hair. “Rest, Draco. Close your eyes and rest. I’ll be right here beside you.” Listening to his voice, knowing he was telling me the truth, that I would wake up to find him with me, I did as he asked. My aching body was claimed by sleep almost immediately, and I heard the soft incantation of a dreamless sleep charm as my eyes closed.


End file.
